


Words Like Shackles

by Nevanna



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Kilgrave is still preying on Jessica's mind.





	Words Like Shackles

**Author's Note:**

> This story fulfills the "rape/non-con" prompt for Round 9 of Hurt/Comfort bingo.

Jessica is finally halfway to sleep when she smells him: fancy designer shampoo and the ghost of some fancier designer cologne. “Don’t move,” he says, and every muscle goes rigid. “Close your mouth,” and her teeth clench together hard enough to hurt, as he caresses her breasts and stomach and... “That’s better. I don’t want you to spoil this with those vile words you like to use.” 

A dozen different swears form in her throat as she strains against his control, knowing that it won’t help, knowing that she can’t give in. Tears prickle in her eyes.

(Maybe she’s lucky that she can still move her eyes: he once told a limo driver “don’t blink,” after the poor bastard took a turn too sharply and made them spill their drinks.)

He nudges her legs apart, and slides two fingers inside.

(Maybe she’s lucky that he hasn’t said, “you want this” or, “beg for more.”)

It’s only when he croons, “That’s my girl,” that she finds her voice and lets it out in a wordless, animal scream.

She’s alone in Trish’s guest bed, and the only smell on the sheets is her own sweat. When Trish doesn’t come charging into the room, Jessica realizes that she must still be out for the night, at some benefit dinner or other. Or was that yesterday?

She rolls out of beg and stumbles out into the darkened apartment. A shower will probably make her feel less like things are squirming under her skin. Hopefully, this time, she won’t feel Kilgrave’s breath on the back of her neck, his hands slick down her sides, and punch tile hard enough to crack it.

The door opens, the light switches on, and Trish’s lipsticked mouth parts in a surprised circle. “Jess, what happened?”

“Bad dream,” Jessica croaks, hugging herself with both arms. “No, fuck that, it wasn’t a dream. I remembered…” Remembered other nights when Kilgrave must have gotten tired of pretending that she was a willing partner instead of something to jerk off into. Her nails dig into her skin.

“Hey.” Trish tosses her bag aside. “What do you need?”

“A drink, but I know you don’t have anything in the house.”

“I can make tea,” Trish suggests, and Jessica’s disgust must show on her face. “Okay, maybe not.” She plays with one of her antique bracelets. “You know I don’t want to push you, but…”

“But if I talk about what happened, maybe it’ll help?” Jessica finishes for her. So far, Trish knows that she left an abusive guy, but the details are a little harder to explain, even in a city that’s still recovering from an alien invasion.

(Maybe she’s lucky that Kilgrave didn’t decide to personally familiarize Trish with his powers.) 

“I probably said that already, didn’t I?” Trish asks.

“Couple of times, yeah.”

“It’ll still be true tomorrow,” Trish says, holding out her arms. "We'll think about it then." As Jessica steps into the embrace, the uneasiness beneath her skin begins to dissolve. 

(Maybe she’s just lucky.)


End file.
